Chapter 35 - The Lake Of Winter

There is not a single soul inside Idylwood Park.

Where there is water, there is ice.

The grass is covered by dazzlingly white snow.

It is a world of icy winter. Exhale a breath of air and it quickly freezes. Walk a step and there is a deep footprint in the snow. Inside Idylwood Park, there is only one trail of footprints leading from the outside to the edge of the lake. Snow is still falling, turning the surroundings into a silver world of Christmas.

The fresh green of spring has vanished.

The crowds of summer have disappeared.

Autumn's fallen leaves are covered by snow.

Now, all that can be seen by the eyes is snow, snow, snow... on top of roofs, branches, grass, and earth. Snow plows from the city are distributing salt on the roads. (Snow melts faster with the help of salt.)

Lake Sammamish is still Lake Sammamish; I am still me. Because the lake is quite deep, it does not freeze easily; but, I believe, its still-sparkling green water is extremely cold.

In weather like this, at an hour like this, it is best to retreat to one's house, to light a fire in the fire place, to sit next to the fire and have a cup of hot coffee while reading a magazine or watching television... to enjoy the warmth of a home. But I did none of these. I went to look at the water of the lake.

Even though it is an extremely cold winter, I am still a part of Lake Sammamish. I still walk by the lake of winter with its icy cold water.

Snow has not stopped my footsteps.

The cold, snowy season has not frozen Lake Sammamish.

I still listen carefully to the waves of the lake, the hundreds of thousands of sounds of waves, Jhar Jhar Shar Shar, just as busy as before. I look at the lake. It contains my birth, my youth, my middle years, even my old age. It is a continuation of life. The assembling and dispersing of many people linked to me by karma are all in the Dockings of the lake.

In the sounds of the waves in this lake, there are too many tears, too much despair, and too many sufferings. The assembled becomes dispersed; the connected is separated; the gained is lost. The success and failure of one goal after another becomes strung together and turns into our Universe.

Holy-Red-Crown-Vajra-Master knows that such are the patterns of this human world.

I know that I have already written sixty books. What do these books signify? Is it happiness? Is it grief? Is it childishness? Is it wisdom? Perhaps it is the far cry of a just cause; perhaps it is the moaning of a wounded person. It is the same as the sounds of the lake waves, a combination of hundreds of thousands of forms.

The lakeside life at Lake Sammamish is a kind of boundless life.

It is:

• Thought.

• Meditation.

• Learning.

• Immersion.

I chose this lake. I become one with the water in the lake. This is the same as I become one with everything. Now, my heart and spirit are very calm. Holy-Red-Crown-Vajra-Master's heart and spirit are very calm. Here is a solemn and dignified Buddha's land. The lake is radiating splendor, the image of the Master is radiating splendor, add this lake of winter is also radiating a snow-white splendor. All are limitless and all-pervasive.

Let me write a poem:

The true Great Wisdom is See and Easy,

No need to bear the upheld thoughts.

Asceticism is a kind of learning,

Explaining Truth and Perfection is Compassionate Love.

 

Purity, Tranquility and Harmony,

The wonderful Happiness is a river

Merging together into Lake Sammamish,

Into the true Guru, the Tantric Practitioner.

 

Others recite and chant the sutra to me;

I say, whatever you say will do.

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